Fifty Shades Of Barry
by GrittyRe-boot
Summary: Iris and Barry try to shake things up in bed, and the results are... unexpected


**This has been on Archive of our Own for a few weeks, but I figured I'd post it here now that the show has picked up such a following. **

"He's my very own Christian Grey flavored Popsicle." Iris reads, her voice playful "Hmm… he's soft and hard at once, like steel encased in velvet, and surprisingly tast- Barry stop laughing." She continues, smacking Barry playfully with the paperback as he once again dissolves into barely restrained giggles. "This is supposed to be sexy, remember?"

"Okay," I'm sorry, Barry says, pulling himself together. "Please, go on."

"Okay, where was I?" she says, clearing her throat. "Okay," she continues, morphing back into sexy Iris, but Barry can't help but notice even in sexy Iris mode she still sounds more adorable than anything. " I suck harder and harder ... Hmm ... My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa move-" and now it's Iris that can't contain her snickering.

"Okay, if you can't keep a straight face how am I supposed to?" Barry teases.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Iris replies. "It's just, seriously, comparing a penis to a popsicle? Not exactly creative wordplay, or accurate for that matter."

"Okay, I know you thought it would be fun to get drunk and read Fifty Shades but I have to say Iris, there's not enough alcohol in the world," Barry groans, shaking his head.

"Yeah, you're right," Iris says, tossing the book aside. "I don't get it either, this girl I took psych with says it pretty much saved her relationship."

"Oh yeah, you told me about her," Barry says, recalling Iris's story. "When did they break up again?"

"Last month," Iris says sheepishly.

"What about our relationship needs saving anyway?" Barry asks. "I mean, I always thought our sex life was satisfactory to great."

"It is great," Iris reassures him, reaching for his hand. "I mean, you're the best I've ever had Barry, and I really mean that. The way you kind of vibrate sometimes... gives me chills."

"Thanks babe," he says proudly, trying not to let his face grow red at the indirect mention of his powers. "I can safely say the feeling is mutual, I mean, you're about the least kinky person on the planet but what you do you do like a pro."

"I can be kinky," she argues, crossing her arms.

"You won't even do doggy style," Barry argues. And she can't exactly disagree.

"Well, it just seems so dehumanizing," Iris replies.

"Probably why it's not called human style," Barry quips back.

"Well, what about that time I wore my heels to bed, that was hot right?"

"You mean the two inch job interview pumps?" Barry teases. "Surprisingly, yes."

"Well I wasn't about to break my good heels," She argues. "Anyway, what makes you such an expert on kink anyway? You're no Christian Grey yourself."

"Yeah, sorry I'm not an abusive wacko," Barry says, rolling his eyes.

"Don't apologize, that guy is a wacko," she agrees. "But my point still stands."

"Okay, so neither of us are into the weird stuff," Barry admits. "What's so bad about that? We're in love, we have a great sex life, what's the problem?"

"There is no problem Barry, if everything were to stay the same in our relationship I would be just fine with that."

"But?" Barry asks, narrowing his eyes.

"But," Iris continues, reaching for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. They used to do this as kids sometimes, hold hands because it just seemed like a nice thing to do, and there was security in the action, something Barry always inwardly longed for after his mom died. Now when they held hands it wasn't just friendly or comforting, it was electric, like the first step toward something greater, in this case, judging by the way Iris is staring at him right now and biting her lip and the way the hard cider is probably making her just the slightest bit loosey goosey, that something more, is fucking, wonderful, magical fucking. "Don't you think we deserve more than 'just fine'?"

He leans in and plants his lips on her full, warm inviting ones, an action that has become so easy, yet still so intoxicating. Her mouth moving against his, her tongue exploring his mouth, her hands running up and down his back, caressing his face, mussing his hair, the little mewling noises she makes, they still make him wonder how they stayed just friends for so long, how he somehow managed to refrain from tearing the clothes off of her gorgeous body and fucking her stupid the second they both hit puberty. But he supposes now is better than never.

"Iris," He breaths as their lips part, and he combs her dark hair behind her ear and stares into her dark eyes as he regains the ability to form a sentence. "You are so much better than just fine."

"So are you, you know I love everything about you Barry," she says. "Your handsome face, your cute little white ass...

He chuckles a little at the comment, embarrassed and flattered at the same time.

"...your cock," she continues, reaching for it, turning his laughter into a deep sigh."

"Come on Barry," she says, rubbing him over the fabric of his pants, making him groan. "Don't you want to spank me a little?"

"Only if you want me to," he says, his voice faraway.

"This is about you Barry," She says, inching forward as she continues to touch him. "It's all about you."

His breathing speeds as she touches him further and begins kissing his neck, soft, grazing kisses.

"Okay," he finally says, his voice choked. "I'll do it. Whatever you want I'll do it."

"Yay!" she says excitedly, parting from him. "Let's go to the bedroom."

With that she grabs his hand and pulls him up from the carpet behind her. She kisses him again as he stands, and he backs her toward the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as she pulls her own up over her head and gets to work on her pants.

"What do you want me to use?" He pants between kisses. "I don't have any paddles, but I still have that whip from when I was Indiana Jones last Halloween."

"No whips," she protests, parting from him.

"Yeah, I guess that would be a little extreme for our first attempt at BDSM."

"No, it's not that," she explains. "It's just... look at you and look at me, that whole scenario just reads a little Twelve Years a Slave for my taste."

"Yeah, good point," he agrees. He sets his eyes on her again, and he notices her underwear, a black corset with metal clasps in front that he desperately wants to undo..

"You so planned this," he says, reaching out, running his fingers over the lace details framing her cleavage, slowly moving down to her matching panties.

"You bet your sweet ass I did." She kisses him again before his fingers can reach the apex of her dark, creamy thighs. And he obliges, kissing her deeper as they finally approach the bed.

"What about my cricket bat from my Shaun Of the Dead Costume?" He suggests next as they settle onto the bed. "Or you, know, I can just use my hands.

"No, the bat sounds like it would be okay, it's not real right?" she asks a bit apprehensively

"Nope, hollow," he assures her.

"Okay," she says, nodding. "let's go with the bat."

He kisses her once more before standing to grab the bat from his closet.

"Found it," He says after a bit of struggle, emerging from the closet with the bat in hand. "Okay, what should I tie your hands with."

"Actually..." she starts, biting her lip.

"You don't want your hands tied do you?" he guesses with a bit of a smirk.

"I'm sorry babe, it's just. I have this thing about my wrists ever since the cops and robbers incident of '98."

"Yeah I remember, you still haven't forgiven me for losing the keys to your dads handcuffs.

"Well yeah I was cuffed to that pipe in my basement for nine hours," she reminds him.

"Okay, no tying your wrists, we'll just omit the B from BDSM," he agrees. "What about a safe word though, shouldn't we have a safe word?"

"Yeah, how about cabbage patch?" She suggests.

"First of all that's two words, second, wasn't that the password to get into your tree house?"

"Yeah, so?" she protests.

"So, I don't think I want to be reminded of our childhood shenanigans while I'm having S&M sex with you," he explains.

"Okay, how about time warp?" she suggests next.

"Still two words, but better," he says.

"Okay, time warp it is," she agrees. And at that she shifts her position getting on all fours as Barry shifts his weight to his knees, wrapping his hand tighter around the handle of the bat. He can't help but to feel a little nervous, he's never been comfortable with the idea of hitting girls, not even for bedroom play, but he gets it, he gets that she wants to make him happy. She has so many rules about this kind of thing, she was bound to worry sooner or later that he might get bored, or even frustrated. He could never get bored with Iris, he'd waited for her his whole life and now that she's finally his, and he's finally hers, his life, in and out of the bedroom, is better than he ever could have imagined. Still, she's kind of right, just because they're happy doesn't mean they can't try something new, so he breaths deep and bends down, pressing his lips just once to her satin-clad backside, making her giggle, then he strikes.

"Ah!" She cries out, "I thought you said it was hollow!"

"Oh god," he exclaims, frantically. "I am so sorry I really didn't mean to hit you that hard."

"It's okay," she insists. "It's just I wasn't really prepared. Let's try it again, I promise I won't freak out this time."

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Positive," she reassures him. "Hit me."

So he does, more gently this time, then again, and again, a little harder with each whack, and he notices they way her body tenses, and her face, it doesn't look aroused, just uncomfortable.

"Okay, can we stop this?" Barry says after awhile, deflating.

"No, it was good, really," Iris says, her voice going high at the end, a clear indication that she isn't being totally honest.

"No it isn't, I can tell by your face, you're not into this at all."

"Well, okay, maybe spanking just doesn't work for me," she admits, looking a bit discouraged. "Maybe we can try that thing where you dont let me have an orgasm."

"You and I both know that I'm way too good at sex for that," he says, not boasting, simply speaking the truth.

"Yeah, you're right, dammit." She admits. "Okay, maybe we can try one of those scented candles I bought you."

"You want me to fuck you with a candle?" Barry asks, perplexed. "Is that sanitary?"

"No you goober," she says, rolling her eyes. "I want you to light it and drip the wax on my back."

"No, no way," he says, shaking his head vigorously.

"Oh come on, it can't be any worse than getting my legs waxed," she argues. "Besides, maybe I just like a different kind of pain, how will we know unless we try it?"

He looks up in contemplation, mulling it over a few moments. He supposes he could give it a shot, dripping wax doesn't necessarily sound unsexy.

"I'll try it, but only because I really like the birthday cake scented ones," Barry says, and she smiles as he reaches over and grabs the candle and lighter out of her nightstand. She returns to her previous position on all fours as he hovers over her, lighting the candle after a moment of hesitation, and they both inhale sharply as the first drops of wax escape from the candle and hit the skin of her bare upper back.

"Ow, fuck, time warp!" she cries, scrambling up frantically, and he's not sure if it's intentional or not, but the next thing he know she's smacked him across the face, hard.

"Jesus, what the hell Iris!" Barry says, grabbing his cheek.

"I'm sorry but you just burned me with a freaking candle!" Iris exclaims.

"You asked me to!" he reminds her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby," she says, replacing the hand on his cheek with her own and kissing his lips softly. "It was a reflex."

"Is this why you started shaving?" Barry asks her, narrowing his eyes playfully.

"To be fair I'm only banned from the waxing salon for three more months," she says sheepishly. And he smiles warmly at her then and moves closer, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into his lap.

"Well, I've officially screwed this up," Iris says as he kisses her cheek.

"It's okay babe, it's not for everyone, if it makes you feel any better I didn't like hitting you either."

"Oh yeah," she says, glaring at him. "Then why are you harder than a diamond in an ice storm right now?"

"He looks sheepish at the question, and he's not sure if he should tell her, not sure if he really understands it himself, but he knows there's nothing he can say or do that would possibly make this evening more of a disaster, so at that he prepares to speak.

"Well, the truth is, when you smacked me in the face..." he starts. "It was kind of hot."

"Oh my god, really?" Iris says incredulously.

"Actually, more than kind of hot," he admits.

"You mean... that did it for you?"

"I'm not proud," he sighs.

"Barry..." she says after a few pensive moments. "Are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

* * *

><p>The ropes are tight around his wrists, not so much that it cuts off the circulation, but enough so that he can't escape, and as she yanks down his underwear a sudden rush of excitement hits her.<p>

"I'm going to enjoy turning your little white ass nice and red," she says darkly, smacking her hand with the cricket bat, making him flinch. And as she brings the bat down good and hard, his strangled cry excites her in a way she can't explain.

"Do you like that you little pussy?" Iris growls, and Barry cant help but think all traces of adorable have been wiped away, she's in full sexy Iris mode now, sexy and scary. she's a natural, who knew?

"Yes mistress," he whimpers.

"I can't hear you!" she exclaims, bringing the bat down harder.

"Yes mistress!" he shouts at the contact.

She continues, whacking his bare ass with the cricket bat over and over, relishing in the sound of his cries, and the way his bound, thin body twists and writhes with every crack, so responsive, it sends a tingle down her spine, at the tips of her toes, in her increasingly wet pussy. With one final crack he cries out once more, but the safe word never escapes his lips.

"You know I've really had it up to here with all that wailing," she says, dropping the bat, and his thin body is easy to turn right side up, he's facing her now, his face red, tears in his eyes, his arms twisted in an X above his head. "Maybe a mouthful of my pussy will shut you up."

"Yes mistress," he sighs, and she slides her black panties off her hips. The sight of her soft, glistening pussy makes his head go foggy and his mouth water, and the scowl on her face in response to his staring both terrifies him and excites him further.

"Did I tell you you could look at it?"

"No mistress," he says apologetically.

"Then why are you still looking at it!" She reprimands him sharply.

"I'm sorry mistress, you have a very pretty pussy," he admits, and she smirks.

"Well I think I ought to take care of your little staring problem." At that she straddles him, and he can feel her heat and wetness on his chest. She leans over and reaches into his bedside drawer, grabbing one of the scarves she left over his place the last time she was over. He's still as she covers his eyes with it, tying it tight at the back of his head.

"That's much better," She says. She doesn't warn him before sitting on his face. Grabbing his hair as she forces him to taste her.

"Eat me Barry," she demands, and he obliges, barely able to breath the way she's straddling his face, but more than willing to plunge his tongue in as deep as it will go. Her voice loses a bit of the dark edge it had adopted as he swirls his tongue around inside, making her quiver and pant.

"Yes, oh, that's good, you're so good," she sighs, her hand still fixed in his hair, pulling it. "Yes, deeper, I want you deeper!"

"He continues to lap her up, the lack of oxygen and the sweet taste of her making his heart pound even more rapidly than usual, he's so hard that it hurts, she's torturing him in that exquisite way that only Iris can. He can't come, he can't displease his mistress, so he'll make her come instead. He finds her clit, rubbing his tongue over it, the friction sending shockwaves through her willing body. He can tell that she's ready, the way he can make her lose control, even as she's clinging so desperately to it, it's the best feeling in the goddamn world. Breathing is overrated.

"Oh fuck, yes!" Iris exclaims, quieter, more controlled than usual, but he knows her body, and he knows that she just came more powerfully than she ever has.

"You've been a very good boy Barry," she says, releasing him from the velvety, fragrant prison between her thighs. "And you know what happens to good boys don't you?" She sits across his lap, grabbing him, making him exhale sharply. "Good boys get fucked... hard." She pulls the blindfold down and grabs her panties, shoving them into his mouth and tying them in place with the scarf. "Just to make sure you don't make too much racket."

She sits up on her knees and guides him into her, the tingling, aching feeling of being inside her, approaching sweet relief as she fucks him, bouncing up and down vigorously on his cock, it's indescribable. He takes a quick glance, hoping she doesn't notice, but the quick warning glare she shoots him lets him know to look away, or keep his eyes closed. In the one quick glance he can tell that her breasts are still covered by the corset, he wants to free his hands, get her out of that damn corset so he can touch her. She won't let him touch her, not tonight, she's in control tonight, and somehow that's even hotter. Still he takes a mental note to join her in the shower in the morning, kiss her all over her naked body, feel her tits in his mouth, wrap his arms around her as he fucks her against the tiled wall.

"You're such a good boy Barry," she repeats, riding him still, clawing at his chest. His ass is sore and swollen and rubbing against the bed with every thrust of her hips, but the pain makes the pleasure of being inside her hit him so much harder. He comes intensely, unable to exclaim past the makeshift gag, but wanting to shout in delight to all that can hear.

* * *

><p>When he wakes up the next morning the first thing he notices is that his ass doesn't feel sore anymore, she worked him over good, but not even Iris with a cricket bat could negate the speed healing. He supposes it's for the best, even if last night was an experience he doesn't mind having a reminder of. Sex with Iris is always amazing, so much so that before last night he was completely convinced that it couldn't get any better, never was he happier to be wrong, happy and confused at the same time, because was it really normal to like it that much? He glances over to the side, needing to talk to Iris, but realizing the space next to him is empty, and the scent of bacon is in the air.<p>

He throws the covers off of himself and stands, pulling on his clothes from the night before as he starts toward the kitchen.

She always looks beautiful in the morning, makeup free and always wearing one of his shirts.

"Hey sleepyhead," she says sweetly.

"Hey babe," he says a bit nervously. "You made me waffles?"

"Yup, 'sorry for beating you with a cricket bat waffles" she answers, handing him a plate of bacon, eggs and homemade waffles with that boysenberry syrup he likes.

"So," Barry starts, shuffling his eggs around a little. "About that... did you want to, you know, talk"

She looks at him contemplatively. "What's there to talk about? We tried something new and we liked it... You liked it, right."

"It was only the best thing ever," he agrees. "It's just, is that normal, to, you know, like it that much?"

"Probably not," she shrugs. "But hey, you're nobody's definition of normal BarBear. It's why I love ya."

"Yeah," he agrees. "You don't know the half of it."

"So..." She says with a mischievous smile. "You want to do it again?"

He smiles back and reaches for her hand squeezing it. "For the rest of our lives."

End.


End file.
